The Cliffs of Insanity

Inspired by listening to Without Real String or Fish, James from Canada (his preferred cognomen) felt compelled to share his thoughts about the mighty “Coelocanth."

Coelocanth: The Last Shriekback Song I Will ever Hear?

So here we are in 2015, and Shriekback have just released their 13th album, Without Real String or Fish. And a most excellent album it is, too: full of the usual Shrieky goodness - clever lyrics and wordplay, groovy basslines, catchy tunes that run the gamut of dark, light, thoughtful, funny and sombre (often at the same time!).

So it is not surprising that while one is feasting on a plate of brand new songs, that one also reflects on a band’s past releases, and how they may have influenced one’s musical tastes, preferences, or - perhaps - one’s life.

In my case, I'd like to look back at one particular song - "Coelocanth" - the atmospheric conclusion to the Oil and Gold LP back in the 80's.  I was a teenager back when Oil and Gold was released, and at the time I preferred all the hard-rockin' tunes like "Nemesis" and "Malaria."  So while I loved most of the Oil and Gold album, I always thought that "Coelocanth" was a piece of crap.  "What the hell is this?" I asked at the time.  "Did Shriekback hire Zamfir and his cheesy pan flues to play on this record?** Awful!"  As far as I was concerned at the time, Oil and Gold finished with the conclusion of "Hammerheads."  And so it went for many years... until Manhunter.

Many Shriekback fans either discovered or re-discovered the band as a result of Michael Mann’s film Manhunter, which featured the Shriek songs “Evaporation,” “This Big Hush,” and “Coelocanth.” For me, when I saw the famous tiger scene in that movie, set to the music of “Coelocanth,” I had a bit of an epiphany. All of a sudden, this song wasn’t a cheesy woodwind “extra” tacked on at the end of Oil and Gold, but something which really penetrated deep down into the soul. I promptly began to listen to “Coelocanth,” and with my ears now finally open (so to speak), I realized just how haunting and beautiful a track it really was.

Back in the late 90’s, I once had a dream about this song. I remember it quite vividly - I was lying on some ocean beach on an alien world, with a huge ringed planet rising in a dark aquamarine sky. I heard “Coelocanth” playing somewhere in the distance, although I knew that I was alone on this planet.

At the time I didn’t give the dream much thought… it was just a cool thing that happened. Well, you can imagine my surprise when several years later, while I was surfing the internet for some new desktop wallpaper for my Mac, I came across this particular image at the Digital Blasphemy website :

This image - minus the palm trees - was almost 100% verbatim what I saw in my dream.  It really chilled me to the bone to see my "vision" realized by some person whom I'd never met.  Of course, I immediately pulled out Oil and Gold and played “Coelocanth,” and found myself thoroughly captivated by the synergy of sound and image…it was absolutely hypnotic, even magical. I had already grown to appreciate that once-belittled track “Coelocanth,” but from the moment I heard it in conjunction with this image from my dream, it just became so much more.

So why is it that I say “Coelocanth” is “the last Shriekback song I will ever hear?” Well, it may not be, but - and this is where I perhaps get a little morbid and over-the-top for some readers, but bear with me - I have for many years thought that “Coelocanth” would be the perfect “last song” for me. The last song is essentially the soundtrack to one’s end: when you’re on your death-bed, and you know that you’ve only got minutes left to live, but you can pick one piece of music to accompany you as you journey out of this world and into “whatever-lies-beyond.”

For me, “Coelocanth” conjures up many feelings and imagery. The obvious one is that of prehistoric fish moving through the dark depths of an ancient ocean. But I also see strange alien landscapes (as in my dream), or even the infinite depths of outer space, filled with stars and galaxies. Combine all that imagery with the background synths and trickling water samples, and you have a concoction that just soothes the soul in a way that’s hard to explain. This is why I would be quite happy to spend my final moments with this song in my head. It really encompasses, well, just about everything, for me. Not bad for a previously-mocked, little 4 minute atmosphere track at the end of a 30-year old album.

So why all the “deep-thought” and rather mawkish gushing over this old song? Well, for me, it really demonstrates what I (and no doubt many other Shriek fans) love about Shriekback. How their music grows on you over time, and how deeply it can affect you. It’s not surprising that I’ve been a fan of the Shrieks since the 80’s: they’ve consistently delivered amazing and diverse music, and the new Without Real String or Fish album continues this tradition. Hopefully there are many more wonderful albums coming from this talented bunch in the years to come.

©James from Canada
8 March, 2015

**with apologies to any fans of Zamfir. I also heartily recommend Digital Blasphemy’s Desktop Wallpaper site. The worlds that this guy creates with 3d software really go well with the whole Shriekback vibe. “Without real worlds or matter”, I guess!

Around the age of 12, I began having dreams about going on adventures with a male person whose head and face were always blurred or engulfed in a kind of fog or mist. We would visit various places or dimensions, all linked to a huge ballroom that must have been a dock of some sort. Many of these dreams were lucid, my having them in the very early morning shortly before it was time to get up and get ready for school.

I always enjoyed the dreams, and would often talk about my escapades to Aunt Tudi and Granny. He never gave me his name, so I always described as The Person. I remember that he was at least 6'2" in height, had an English accent, and often wore a black vest. No, he wasn't the Doctor, but I definitely sensed a vague similarity when I started watching Doctor Who in 1983. Oh, and he often had a white cat on his shoulder.

Our relationship wasn't romantic. He was more of a teacher and a guide through the phantasmagorical landscape in which we found ourselves. I always found comfort in my times with The Person and, despite some of the frightening scenarios in which I found myself, there was never a time I did not feel completely safe with him around. A lot of my stories about Dannagran Dram (a strange kind of parallel world I began to develop in 1981) were directly influenced by my Person Dreams, such as pink snow, Darzhevo trees (or Leaftrees) that possessed a strange luminescence, and the first seeds of what would become the Tarmian myths.

The Person was my constant companion in my subconscious world from 1980 until 1991. The last dream I had of him was completely unlike any of the others, in that I could see his face, and he was without his cat companion. Why he chose to reveal himself with this face, I have no idea, but it certainly affected how I view Michael Champion in any of the movies I watch in which he plays a part. (Probably, his best-known role was Helm in the original Total Recall)

The entire feel of the dream was one of dread and, even though I knew I was dreaming, I could do nothing to alter it in my semi-lucid state. I could only watch and listen with horror.

We were on a downtown street of some city. There were young trees dotting the sidewalk on both sides. I think they were maples, but I can't say for sure. I was standing with my back against the brick wall of a crumbling building, and The Person stood with his arm around me.

He said, "Look at what has happened." I peered out and saw that, for each person walking silently down the sidewalk, a man dressed in black combat gear and wearing a helmet that concealed his face, walked closely behind, carrying a machine gun.

"It has gone wrong. Don't let them catch you. They're vivisecting presumed offenders."

Suddenly, the scene changed, and I was standing in an operation room, apparently invisible, watching this surgical team, cut my dream guardian open from stem to stern, and prod the exposed organs as The Person shrieked in pain. That was the last time he appeared to me.

Ever since 9/11, the dream has taken on new meaning for me, but recent events worldwide have certainly made thoughts of the nightmare much more relevant and disturbing.

Did I have a vision back in 1991? Was any of that really real? I have no idea. But I can't help but think "It has gone wrong" has certainly surfaced as a grim reality.